


Neurotoxin

by thenakednymph



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, He hallucinates, Keith has feelings, Lance is afraid, Lance is dying but doesn’t DIE, M/M, angst with fluff, flangst, its just for drama, klangst, there’s kissing against a wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:56:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenakednymph/pseuds/thenakednymph
Summary: Lance is dying from a neurotoxin. It may be the push Keith needs to tell him how he feels. But then he has to deal with the aftermath.~That sounds much heavier than it is. It ends with fluff, promise.





	Neurotoxin

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, something else I’ve been sitting on for a god damn age.

The sky is a wash of pink, yellow, and orange, each color shifting and billowing, curling like plumes of smoke all around him. Lance knows it shouldn't be possible to stand on a cloud but somehow he is. There's nothing around him but sky, above and below and he knows that's strange but he can't remember why.

Looking down he realizes he can't feel his hands. He flexes his fingers idly, watching them curl but unable to feel it happening. Somehow he isn't worried about it.

“Lance?”

“Hmm?” He turns to the voice, letting his hands drop. It takes him a moment to recognize it's Keith. Not that he's any different than normal, just that Lance can't quite grasp the name as quickly as he knows he should.

He smiles fondly. Keith returns Lance’s smile but it’s thin. “Hi.”

Lance catches the deep furrows between Keith’s brows and the shadows under his eyes and knows that should worry him, but he’s just happy Keith is here. Wherever here is.

“Hey,” he says softly, his heart warm.

Lance watches as his hand reaches out to tuck some of Keith's hair behind his ear. He's tied it back but the band is slipping.

“You look terrible.” His fingers stroke through the dark strands, catching on tangles and Lance frowns. “Do you even own a hairbrush?” He clucks his tongue but can't get his fingers to work the knots lose and pulls his hand back, idly rubbing his fingers together.

“Can't feel my hands,” he says to himself as if he'd somehow forgotten. “Do you think that's weird?”

Keith's face falls and to Lance's surprise Keith hugs him. The force of it nearly knocks Lance off his feet, though he knows he can’t fall. He wraps his arms around Keith, watching as his hands wander. One reaches up and tugs the band in Keith’s hair loose, toying with the ends of it and smiling as Keith lets him. It’s not like the band was doing its job anyway.

“You have pretty hair,” Lance murmurs and wonders what stopped him from running his hands through it before now.

Keith makes a sound and buries his face in Lance's neck, taking a deep breath and squeezing him tighter. One hand clasps against the back of his neck and Lance hums approvingly. Keith is warm and the weight of him is welcome against the sensation of floating that’s suffusing Lance.

Keith pulls away slowly, like any space between them is causing him physical pain and Lance can't tell if he resists the urge to pull him back or if his hands are too weak to do so. Either way he knows he wants Keith to hug him again.

To his surprise Keith is crying.

“Hey,” Lance soothes, cupping Keith's face in his numb hands. He’s surprised when Keith leans into the touch, reaching up to grasp Lance's wrist as if to hold him there. He takes a shuddering breath and presses his lips to Lance’s palm. Again, Lance mourns his lack of feeling.

“You're getting worse.” His voice sounds thick and raspy, like maybe he’s been crying before now and Lance hates it.

“When was the last time you slept?” Lance asks, still cradling Keith’s face in his hands.

“What do you remember?” Keith counters and Lance watches as Keith’s thumb strokes a pattern into his wrist.

Lance humms thoughtfully, looking around. “I don't know. Where am I?”

Keith closes his eyes and squeezes Lance's wrist, leaning into it. “You're on the Castle of Lions.” His voice cracks and he swallows thickly. “You've been infected with a neurotoxin and it's killing you.”

The pain on Keith's face has Lance smoothing his loose hair back from his face, something he thinks he's always wanted to do but wasn't brave enough for. Now he wonders what was stopping him.

“Shh,” she soothes but it just seems to upset Keith more. “Please don’t cry.”

“We've had this conversation four times,” he chokes out and Lance doesn’t know why Keith is upset. “You're getting worse.”

“Oh.” Lance nods like somehow that makes sense.

Anger and fear twist across Keith's face and he jerks Lance's hand away from his cheek. “Oh? That's all you have to say? You're literally dying right now, I don't know that we can save you, and all you have to say is ‘oh’?”

Lance shrugs, looking at where Keith is gripping his wrist. The skin around his fingers is white with pressure and he knows it should probably hurt but it doesn't.

“Doesn't seem so bad.” He smiles and it's blinding. Keith feels his heart breaking. “You're here.”

Keith crumples, his head tipping forward until it rests against Lance's shoulder and he cries, his whole body trembling. Lance smiles, happy to have Keith back in his arms even if he is crying.

“I should have told you,” he chokes out, his body limp against Lance's but much lighter than he knows it should be.

“This is a weird dream,” Lance decides, rubbing circles into Keith’s back and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Not a bad one, just weird.” He smooths a hand over Keith's hair, humming thoughtfully. “I'm glad you're here.”

Keith’s hands tighten their grip in Lance’s shirt like he’s trying to draw him closer. Lance willing obliges. “I'm sorry I'm such a coward.”

Lance pulls away and lifts Keith's chin with a pout, his voice still soft, the sound of it brushing against his own skin like satin and isn't that an odd feeling; to feel your own voice.

“You're no such thing.” He doesn’t notice as his thumb starts tracing over the edge of Keith’s chin, working its way toward his lower lip.

“All I've ever done is run away from the things that scare me. How is that not cowardice?”

Lance hums thoughtfully, thumb brushing the corner of Keith’s mouth as he stares off at a spiral in the distance, the color shifting from gold to pink to purple. “Sounds more like survival to me.”

“I keep running away from _you._ ”

Lance tips his head to the side and smiles, his attention drawn back to Keith. “You're here now aren't you?” Something coy slips into his expression and he bumps his forehead against Keith's, lips brushing against his cheek. “Besides, there's nowhere I wouldn't follow you.” He says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world and Keith can feel a part of him dying with Lance.

“I think I'm in love with you,” Keith rasps.

Lance closes his eyes and smiles and Keith can feel it on his skin like sunlight. “Think I'm in love with you too.”

All it takes is for Keith to lift his chin up like Lance’s hand is guiding him and then they’re kissing, Keith’s hands on Lance's cheeks, holding him like he's terrified. The kiss tastes like poison but Lance swallows it down anyway, butterflies bursting from his chest as he slides his tongue along Keith's and tastes sunlight. He hums as Keith kisses him, rising and falling to meet him like the tide, waves crashing against the shore as Keith pulls him closer, fingers desperate and it feels like falling.

Lance idly wonders what his hands are doing and pulls back to find out. One is pressed to Keith's cheek, the other one tucked somewhere behind Keith's back and probably up to no good. He grins at the thought.

Keith's cheeks are flushed and he's panting, lips parted invitingly and Lance sweeps in, nipping at them teasingly. Keith chases after him when he pulls away again but Lance doesn't let him catch him.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, fingers still stroking over Keith's cheek, his lips, his jaw. He can’t stop touching him.

“Please come back to me,” Keith whispers as the clouds around them darken, twisting into a storm and for the first time Lance is afraid.

“Where am I?” he asks, his voice suddenly small, Lance suddenly small as the storm presses in on them

“Come back.”

The storm swallows them and Lance feels cold. He can't feel Keith in his arms anymore.

“Keith?”

~

“He's crashing!”

Keith stumbles back out of the way as Pidge comes charging into the room, the tablet they’ve been using to monitor Lance’s vitals from outside the room in their hands. Pidge shoves him out of the way and leaps onto the bed, beginning chest compressions.

“Where is Allura!?” they shout, their small fists forcing Lance's heart to pump. The monitor attached to Lance's chest drones on in the same tone, begins to beep out a staccato rhythm with Pidge's movements.

“Tip his head back and plug his nose,” Pidge orders but Keith can't move, can't hear anything over that terrible droning. Pidge whirls on him. “Keith!”

Hunk darts past him instead and does as Pidge orders, tipping Lance's head back, plugging his nose and breathing air into his lungs.

Pidge counts with each pump and still the monitor drones. “Again! Shiro, I need adrenaline!”

Before he has time to turn around Coran is slapping something into his hand and he realizes it's a syringe. Pidge moves back and Shiro drives it into Lance's heart and Keith flinches.

Pidge begins compressions again and still the monitor drones. Angry tears fill their eyes and they curse.

“Come on you stubborn piece of shit.” Tears choke their voice. “Don't you dare die on me or I'll never forgive you.”

“I have it!” The doors slide open, Allura catching her shoulder on it as she rushes to get into the room before it’s even fully opened. Her hands are shaking as Coran pulls the syringe from Shiro and passes it to her. She ejects the empty cartridge, replacing it with the one she'd taken with her down to the planet, snapping it into place.

“Sit him up,” she orders and together Pidge and Hunk lever Lance upright, cradling him as Allura tips his head forward. She reaches around him to slam the syringe down into the base of Lance's skull, injecting the antidote straight into his brain stem. Keith feels sick.

Pidge drops him down onto the bed and starts compressions again, their glasses slipping down their sweaty nose.

Coran snatches up two small devices and waves Pidge back.

“We have to restart his heart. This should do the tick.”

“Why didn't we try that sooner?” Pidge snaps, scrambling back out of the way.

“Because it's calibrated to Altean physiology,” Coran explains as he yanks up Lance’s shirt and applies the two small devices to Lance’s chest. “I don't know what it'll do to a human.”

“Well it can't get any worse!”

Coran doesn't answer. “Move back please.” He takes a small device and presses a button on it, Lance's body jerking on the bed in a way that makes Keith’s stomach lurch. The monitor lets out a sharp beep before falling into its singular note again and he closes his eyes, except that’s worse so he opens them again.

“Again,” Pidge snaps.

Coran looks at Allura for confirmation and she nods. He presses it again. Lance's body twists on the bed, like a puppet with its strings cut before falling still. There's a telltale beep, a pause that seems to last hours, and then another, and another as Lance's heart starts beating.

Pidge sways on their feet before sinking to the ground and bursting into tears.

“Haha!” Coran cries, lifting both hands into the air in triumph and hugging Allura who looks ready to collapse herself.

Keith sways on his feet, locking his knees as Shiro puts a hand on his shoulder. For a moment they all just stand there, listening to the sound of Lance's heart beating before Shiro looks at the Princess.

“What did you have to trade for it?” There’s something wary in his voice, something worried. The whole reason they were in this mess was because the people on the planet below weren’t willing to trade for the antidote and nothing they had to offer was changing their minds, even at the cost of Lance’s life.

Allura’s eyes have steel in them when she answers. “Nothing that wasn't worth it.”

~

They sedate Lance for two days, using a combination of various Altean technologies to speed his recovery without the use of a pod until they’re sure the neurotoxin is out of his system. It should be but none of them are willing to risk it.

Someone constantly monitors Lance’s brain activity but Coran informs them they won't know for sure if they got the antidote into Lance in time to prevent permanent damage until he’s awake.

Keith spends the time in silence. He doesn't actively avoid the others, needing the reassurance of their presence but doesn't know what to say, doesn’t know how to say it, but neither do any of the others.

They seem to understand. More than once he finds himself sitting next to Pidge for stretches of time, sitting in silence as they lean against him and cry or stare blankly at the wall. Keith finds the weight and warmth of another person helps ground him inside his own body and finds himself seeking out the feeling in the others until they finally wake Lance.

~

Keith keeps his distance until one by one the others all leave and Lance falls asleep. Keith doesn’t know how to react now that the others have seen him lose it over the past few days. Thankfully none of them tease him about it and he sinks into a chair next to Lance’s bed, stroking his fingers over Lance’s hand, too self-conscious to actually hold it.

Lance mumbles and shifts, blinking his eyes open. He turns in Keith’s direction and blinks slowly, a smile stretching across his face. His fingers twitch, stroking against Keith’s and Keith pulls his hand back, settling it in his lap.

“I was dreaming,” Lance mumbles sleepily, still waking up from the medication they’d had him on. The others have given them some privacy and no matter how subtle they were trying to be Keith knows it’s on purpose. Thankfully none of them comment on the last conversation Keith and Lance had before Lance’s heart stopped beating.

At least then, like now, they’d opted to step out of the room. Keith wasn’t sure he could handle the looks Shiro and the others would give him if they knew about Keith’s dramatic goodbye kiss. Not sure if Lance even remembers it.

Keith holds his hands in his lap to keep from touching Lance. “Yeah?”

Lance nods, his lips pouting seriously in a way that makes Keith’s stomach flip. He thought he’d never see it again.

He stares down at his hands, wondering how much of their conversations Lance remembers. “Anything good?” He doesn’t know why he’s blushing.

Lance smiles and it illuminates the entire room. “Yeah,” he breathes, sounding almost dreamy. “You were there.” He reaches up and his fingers flick at Keith’s hair, getting him to look up. He yawns, body going slack against the bed. “Still beautiful,” he mumbles before settling in to sleep.

Keith does his best to swallow his beating heart.

~

The next time Lance wakes up he’s still woozy and drops off to sleep shortly after they’ve all had their time to hug and cry over him. Keith avoids visiting Lance the next few times he wakes up, numb with relief and struck with the overwhelming need to cry every few minutes. He doesn’t trust himself to visit Lance again without doing something stupid, like kissing him again, so he does the next best thing: avoids him.

The next time Lance drops off to sleep Keith slips out of the room feeling like his chest is splintering open. He needs to do something with his hands to stay busy, but by the time the gladiator throws him across the room for the third time he settles for something more banal.

~

Keith is doing laundry to keep his hands busy when there’s a knock on his door. He’s expecting Shiro to be on the other side, but nearly jumps out of his skin when he finds Lance instead. He backpedals to the other side of the room trying to make it look like he isn’t all but running away. He pretends to focus on his laundry instead of the overwhelming desire to kiss Lance, to hold him and never let him go. All his terror from the past few days comes crashing back down on him and Keith feels his knees go weak.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Keith chokes out, horrified at how high and strangled his voice is as he puts his back to Lance.

Lance lifts an eyebrow and his eyes twinkle in that mischievous way he has and Keith knows he’s done for. His heart pounds as Lance casually wanders across Keith’s room, sitting on the bed like he was meant to be there. He drapes his long legs across the clean sheets and Keith notices he’s barefoot.

He tucks his arms behind his head and looks smug about it. “I am in bed.”

Keith scowls at him over his shoulder but Lance is unaffected.

“Besides,” he says, lowering his voice conspiratorially, like they’re sharing a secret, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Keith glances at the door, chewing on his lip. Lance should be in bed, but Keith missed him and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Lance all to himself after everything that happened. In spite of how hard Keith had been avoiding him, it feels good to see Lance, especially now that he’s not in a hospital bed. Instead he’s lounging across Keith’s bed in a soft long sleeved shirt that gapes open around his neck, the sleeves slipping over his hands. He looks soft and vulnerable and so damn beautiful it makes Keith’s heart ache.

He knows he should send Lance back to the medbay, but there's something vulnerable in his eyes and Keith is weak. So instead of forcing him away Keith shrugs and refolds the same shirt for the third time without realizing it.

“Okay.”

Lance hums softly to himself as Keith works and he finds himself closing his eyes and listening, relieved to have the small silences filled. He’d never realized how quiet the castle was without him.

“I’m not distracting you am I?”

Keith’s head snaps up and he looks over at Lance, surprised by the vulnerability in the words and on Lance’s face.

“No, why would you be distracting me?” Keith realizes his hands have fallen still and he hurries to fold whatever it is he’s holding.

A slow smile creeps across Lance’s face and his eyes flick down to the jeans in Keith’s hands. “You’ve been holding the same pair of pants for a couple of minutes now, just standing there.” His smile fades away and Keith thinks it’s the saddest thing he’s ever seen.

“I missed you,” he blurts out, flushing when Lance raises his eyebrows. Keith immediately ducks his head, trying to hide.

Lance studies him, his expression smoothing a moment later and he looks far too smug. Keith turns his back on Lance and half heartedly folds the jeans, dropping them in a pile that’s more or less an organized mess, picking up another.

“And here I thought you of all people would enjoy the silence,” Lance teases.

“I didn’t.” Keither curses whatever it is that’s pulling truth after truth from him, his fingers curling into fists. “Do you have any idea just how much noise you make?” It comes out meaner than he’d meant it.

“Wow,” Lance drawls. “Way to flatter a guy.” Something in his voice falls flat and Keith scrambles to correct his mistake.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Keith snaps, turning back around. “It’s like-” He struggles to find a description, groping uselessly at the air. “It’s like your presence makes the castle brighter, like your voice chases away the shadows clinging to the corners and when you were gone there was no one to chase the shadows away.” He doesn’t know where that descriptor comes from but finds it’s true. “I never realized how empty and quiet it is out here.”

Lance’s smiles goes sad around the edges. “Why do you think I do it?”

Keith stares at Lance like he hadn’t thought of that.

Lance sits up, placing his elbows on his knees. “Have you ever noticed how Pidge is always working on something? Wherever they go there’s a soft whirring or the clicking of their tools or keys as they’re fiddling with their next project. They don’t like the silence.

“Neither does Hunk, or Shiro, or you. You all get fidgety. Silence allows fear to creep in, anxiety. All the dark things you don’t want to think about, that you try to force away to the back of your mind? It’s harder to block them out in the silence.” He shrugs awkwardly, fiddling with the edge of Keith’s sheet. “I do my best to help keep it at bay.”

Keith feels his shoulders go slack, something like relief and wonder washing over him. He’d never thought Lance was that thoughtful or self-aware, that everything he’d been doing had been tailored to their benefit. His mouth works before his brain has time to catch up and he’s breathing the words before he can stop himself.

“God I love you.”  

Lance stares at him and Keith realizes what he's said and freezes, his face bright red. He’s too afraid to move, just stares at Lance trying to decide if he should stay put or bolt.

“So it wasn't a dream,” Lance says slowly.

Keith twists the fabric of one of his shirts in his hands until his fingers hurt.

“I'm not sorry,” he whispers, panic and vulnerability squeezing his throat. His face is still red but he meets Lance's gaze head on. His heart twists painfully at the expression on Lance's face.

He looks devastated and Keith's heart falls into his knees, leaving him cold.

“You deserve better than me,” he says like he’s trying to let Keith down gently and his voice is painfully kind.

Lance smiles in that self-deprecating way he does that Keith hates and he tosses aside the laundry he’d been tying in knots.

“No,” he snaps, a dark scowl on his face, “see, that's bullshit.” He jabs a finger at Lance who jerks backwards even though Keith is on the other side of the room. “I deserve better? Bullshit,” he spits. “I deserve to be with someone who makes me happy and you make me happy.” He scowls at Lance, his face burning but he looks determined. “Do you love me?”

Lance flushes, shoulders rising to his ears and he hides behind them, his voice small. “Does it matter?”

“Yes!” Keith snaps. “God, of course it matters Lance. If we care about each other why can't we be together? Because of some contrived idea you have about what I do or don't deserve? Because that's bullshit. I deserve to be happy,” he says again. He stares at Lance, a rogue thought drifting through his head and he latches onto it, because Lance still hasn’t said that he doesn’t want Keith, just that he thinks he isn’t worthy of him.

“Have you ever, for once in your life thought you were good enough?” he asks softly. “For anything?”

Lance still has that look on his face and Keith would do anything to be rid of it. Lance drops his head and digs his nail into his thumb, staring at the floor. For a minute Keith thinks he isn't going to answer and then he does, and it breaks Keith’s heart.

“No.”

He takes a step forward wanting to hold him but still so angry. He can feel it coiling in his hands and shoulders. He’s not fit to comfort anyone.

“Well you're good enough for me and to hell with anyone or anything that made you believe otherwise.” His jaw flexes as he glares at Lance, something painful lodging in his throat. “You deserve to be happy.”

Lance's face is soft. He's still sitting on the bed, his fingers twisting together, chewing over the thought and when he glances at Keith there are tears in his eyes.

“You make me happy.” Keith shakes his head like he doesn’t understand. “Why isn’t that enough?”

Lance laughs, soft and confused. “You deserve everything but I'm not good enough-”

“You are,” Keith interrupts, taking a half step forward, his face determined. “And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that, what I have to do to prove it to you but-” He swallows the words he wants to say, that he’d spend the rest of his life trying to make Lance believe him because that feels like too much too quickly but it’s true.

Lance looks up and studies him, expression guarded but weak, like Keith can see all the cracks between the pieces of Lance’s shield, the spaces between them as Lance’s resolve begins to crumble.

There’s something so painfully vulnerable and terrified in Lance’s expression as he studies Keith.

“You really want _me?_ ” he whispers, “This isn't...this isn't some screwed up joke or you making fun of me?” Lance’s voice cracks. “Because I can't deal with that.” His voice and face are serious in a way Keith isn’t used to seeing and he wonders if someone has broken his heart like this before, maybe as a joke to their friends when he was in the Garrison and something sick twists his stomach.

He takes another step towards Lance and swallows thickly. “It's not a joke.” He wishes there was more to prove to Lance that he’s not just screwing with him. He doesn’t know how to say it, but he tries.

“I want to be with you,” he says firmly, hands tightening at his sides. “I want to date you; I want to know what you look like when you're waking up in the morning, when you're falling asleep, when you're sad and sick and angry. I _want_ that.” Something in his face turns desperate as he studies Lance's face and his breath hitches. Keith knows that look. It's one he’s made himself a dozen times before running away from the things that frighten him. He’s tired of doing it.

“Please don't run away from me,” he pleads, his voice broken. “Not after all this. I’ve lost so many people and I thought I was going to lose you too.”

Lance finally stands, swiping his palms across his pants. His shoulders are pulled forward in a way that makes him look small and unsure and Keith misses Lance’s confidence. Wonders if any part of it was ever real, hopes one day it will be.

He looks at Keith shyly. “I can’t say I understand why you of all people would want someone like me.” Keith scowls. “But if you want me,” he shrugs awkwardly, hands lifted away from his sides like he’s still not worthy. “I’m right here.”

Keith sets his jaw and crosses the room in three strides, folding himself into Lance’s arms. He holds him so tightly he’s afraid he's hurting him, but can’t bring himself to loosen his grip.

“We are going to have a conversation about who or whatever it was that made you think you’re so fucking worthless,” he grinds out, the words muffled against Lance’s shoulder. “But right now I really want to kiss you.” He can feel his ears burning as Lance pulls away just enough to get Keith to look up.

There’s a mix of emotions in Lance’s expression, only some of which he can identify: hope, wonder, embarrassment, delight and more he one day hopes to read.

Lance’s knuckle gently cuffs Keith’s chin, tipping it upwards. “I’m right here,” he breathes and there’s a flicker of a challenge in his voice, a taunt and Keith feels himself rise to the bait on reflex.

He closes the distance between them, cupping the back of Lance’s neck and kisses him soundly. Lance melts into the touch, holding Keith’s face with one hand, tipping his head slightly and humming. He kisses the fear from Keith’s mouth, strokes it away from his eyes, tries to write what he feels into Keith’s skin with his fingers.

“How could I not love you?” he whispers against Keith’s lips and Keith’s breath stutters.

“I thought you hated me.”

Lance strokes a hand down Keith’s cheek. “Being angry was easier than being heartsick over you.”

“Is that why you tried to walk away from me?”

Lance’s smile is self-deprecating again and Keith kisses it off him. When they part Lance brushes their noses together, his eyes still closed.

“Just didn’t think you’d ever want me back,” he breathes. “Are you sure I’m not still dreaming?”

“I’m not sure of anything right now. Only that I wish I’d told you sooner.”

To his surprise Lance laughs. “Yeah, wait until I’m literally dying to tell me you’re in love with me. A little dramatic don’t you think?”

Keith grins. “You love drama, shut up,” he teases, his heart lifting.

Lance shakes his head and kisses him. “We figured it out didn’t we?” He spends a moment kissing Keith before pulling away again. “And I’m right here.” Lance feels Keith’s fingers curl in his shirt.

He’s barely prepared for the moment Keith surges up against him, crashing their mouths together, his fingers in Lance’s hair, against his neck, his tongue sliding into Lance’s mouth before he can process what’s happening.

He’s weak in the face of Keith’s assault, soft and pliant and he doesn’t realize he’s backing away until he hits a wall with a groan. Want curls in his stomach and he pushes back, sinking his teeth into Keith’s lip which has him raking his fingers down Lance’s chest in a way that makes him gasp. His head falls back against the wall breaking the kiss.

They pant wetly against one another, Keith’s lips against Lance’s throat. Lance’s fingers toy with the fabric of his shirt before his hands dart to Keith’s hips, grabbing him by the ass and hauling him upright, spinning until Keith is pinned between his body and the wall.

Keith stares at him wide-eyed, lips parted, hands heavy and warm against Lance’s shoulders, startled. Lance grins.

“Not as scrawny as I look Samurai,” he whispers and Keith swallows, Lance’s eyes tracking the motion.

Lance flexes his hands against Keith’s ass and he groans, head tipping back against the wall, his back arching. Lance slots his mouth against Keith’s throat, sucking a bruise into the skin until Keith is writhing in his arms.

His hands work their way into Lance’s hair, holding him in place and Lance licks a stripe up Keith’s throat to his jaw.

“You deserve everything,” he breathes over the wet skin and Keith shivers. “Everything and more.” He lifts one hand to touch the side of Keith’s face, flushed and warm. Keith lifts his head to blink blearily at him.

“I would give you the universe and everything in it if you only asked.”

Keith seems to find enough of himself to reply, one of his hands cupping Lance’s cheek in a mirror touch.

“I only want you.”

Lance’s heart soars and he kisses Keith until his legs are weak, his arms shaking with the pleasant weight of Keith in them.

Reluctantly he pulls back. “I could kiss you forever,” he says, “but I have to admit I didn’t think this whole thing through and I really have to put you down before I drop you.”

Keith laughs into Lance’s neck, nibbling at his ear and Lance groans, his hands flexing again. Keith pants, curling his fingers in Lance’s hair to pull his head back.

“We have all the time in the world now.” He presses a quick kiss to Lance’s mouth. “So long as you don’t go dying on me again.”

Lance actually sounds affronted but puts Keith down slowly instead of dropping him like he was expecting.

“I want to be mad but I feel like you have a point.”

Keith lets his hands fiddle with Lance’s shirt, the material soft between his fingers. “Will you stay?”

“For sex or cuddles?”

“Lance!” Keith hides his flushed face in Lance’s chest and Lance’s laughter is caught in Keith’s hair.

“What? It seems a reasonable question.” Lance shifts his weight and Keith is abruptly aware that they’re both hard.

Keith takes a deep breath and gathers his courage. “I’m not saying no, sex with you sounds amazing. But you nearly died.Like, three days ago.”

Lance smiles and kisses Keith on the nose which he has half a mind to be affronted by. “I was kidding,” he whispers. He tilts his head like he’s thinking and grins. “Mostly.”

Keith shakes his head, unable to pull his hands away from Lance. “Cuddles would be nice.”

Lance’s face lights up and he kisses Keith in a way that leaves his knees weak.

“Good, because I am still really tired.” He steps back, catching Keith’s hands in his own and tugs him towards the bed, the two of them falling into it together.

It’s the best sleep Keith has gotten in years.


End file.
